Dark Olympian Myths: The Final Solution
by Sadie Breezy-O'Shea
Summary: After the Giant War, Perseus is offered immortality once again, but he refuses. The gods don't take no for an answer and force him into godhood. Perseus becomes lonely and miserable and is soon driven to insanity. Only Hecate can help him.


**_Dark Olympian Myths: The Final Solution_**

**...**

The following story was inspired by Felicity Dream's _C__onquests of Paradise_.

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Greek Mythology, only the plot.

Warnings: Angst, tragedy, character death, and just all around insanity. **Read at your own risk.**

**Edit [December 4th, 2012]:** I came back and corrected my grammar mistakes; personally, I am ashamed of my terrible vocabulary and not-so descriptive use of words five months ago. Maybe it wasn't much of a deal, but my old vocabulary was like murder to my eyes.

_An original writer is not one who imitates nobody, but one whom nobody can imitate. ~Chateaubriand, Le Génie du Christianisme, 1802_

**…**

Seven days. Seven days was how long young Perseus had been trapped in the striking palace unaccompanied; just him and his own shadow.

Although, he did have the infrequent visits from his father, he still felt so unaided and alone.

Whenever Poseidon went to find his beloved son and try to placate him, to bolster him that everything was going to be alright, Perseus was always sitting on the window cushions, in the uppermost tower, north; it seemed like he sat there for a time without end, when in veracity, it was only one week; his sea-green eyes were distant, he had bags under his eyes, and he was always huddled up in a ball and rocking backward and forward. There was a grin on his face… the disturbing grin of a madman.

Perseus by no means uttered a word, no matter how much Poseidon tried; the God of the Sea was always greeted with stillness, which caused his temper to slump and the sea to become brutal, ending millions of lives.

Perseus was enforced into godhood; he had been tricked. He never did get to reach his seventeenth birthday in the mortal world like he had wanted. The Olympians were self-centered, too vindictive to force him into something he did not want – they _beyond__ doubt_ loathed him.

"Consort of the gods, my godly butt," Poseidon mumbled every time he was around another Olympian. Those dirty Olympians had ruined his son's life and made him so dejected – he wasn't even permitted to go to Atlantis. His family had always been so selfish, but Poseidon had candidly thought that they had let go of their spiteful ways on mortals. All of them were selfish. Self-centered, self-interested, egocentric; it sickened him – even though he, himself, was in no place to judge, he had once been like the rest of the Olympians.

Perseus rocked back and forth, muttering curses to the gods in Greek and Latin. He wasn't concerned if the gods heard him, they couldn't blast him to bits and put an end to his life. He was everlasting. He couldn't give up the ghost.

Or could he?

Perseus, for the first time since he had been forced into godhood, stood up and cleaned himself up. He required her help. He had a feeling that she might have a solution. She _had_ to have a solution. She was his only hope; his only hope to break away from Olympus with the purpose of putting an end to the pain and desolation that he was suffering internally.

After all, he had nothing to left to lose. His so-called _friends_ were all cowards, every single one of them were too frightened to disobey the gods and try to liberate him from the appalling prison in the heavens. The woman he had once loved had dumped him like yesterday's rubbish. She didn't love him like he loved her.

Hecate was his _only_ hope.

_Hope._

Even Hestia, the blameless one, had helped formulate the arrangement to oblige him into immortality.

He had trusted her.

Life was filled with deceit, treachery, and fatality.

He didn't want to be trapped for infinity with the ones who betrayed his conviction; with the ones who ruined his life for their own benefit and smutty pleasure.

Perseus walked out of his palace quickly and wandered around Olympus with his head down staring at his shoe-less feet. It was at Hera's garden where he found the goddess whom he had been searching for.

Hecate, Goddess of Magic.

The goddess had taken the form of a sixteen-year old teen girl; with her long, fiery red hair that Apollo's sun gave the impression of her straight and long hair that reached down to her back, being on fire, she had pale-porcelain skin, and she wore a knee length, silver, Ancient Greek robe. Her sandals were gold colored and crisscrossed her feet up to her ankles.

"Hecate!" Perseus yelled, catching up with the dark goddess. Hecate stopped walking and turned her head, raising an eyebrow at the god of Loyalty and Bravery.

"What is it, Perseus?" she questioned quietly, her dark eyes bore into him.

"I-I need you to help me. You're my only hope. Please." Perseus told her, his voice overflowing with necessity and his eyes were distraught and darting in dissimilar directions, as if anxious that someone might leap from the shrubbery and take him away to torment him until he went mad – she of course knew that he was terrified of an Olympian catching sight of them.

Hecate nodded straight away and grabbed his upper limb, teleporting herself and Perseus back in his palace; both gods appeared back in the North tower. The bedroom was gloomy and had an atmosphere of seclusion to it – Hecate was very familiar with that feeling.

Being the goddess of magic didn't give her any points with the rest of the gods. They feared her and thought her magic was sinister and wicked. She was alone and disliked. In a way, she could relate to Perseus.

"What did you need my assistance in, Perseus?" Hecate asked the young man, who was pacing around the bedroom, muttering to himself and clutching his dark, raven black locks. The young god set his stare on her and gulped in a gulp of air before opening his mouth.

"Hecate, you're the goddess of Magic. D-Do you know of a spell or potion that could kill an immortal?" Perseus asked her as he walked closer to her, his voice was hushed. His breath trickled on her right ear, making her quiver. Perseus was not aware of this.

Hecate shook her head and looked down at her feet. "I don't know any potion or spell to slaughter an immortal."

Perseus sighed in aggravation and dissatisfaction then turned his head to glare at the skylight that was visible from the window.

"However, I do know about a potion to eliminate immortality,"

Perseus's head snapped towards her direction, removing his intense look from the window that disregarded the city of Olympus, and only gave vision of the sky.

"Will you make it for me?" he whispered, charily, not trusting his own tone of voice. Hecate studied him for a couple of seconds then nodded.

Perseus smiled a real smile for the first time in seven days when Hecate took out a seven-inch wand, darker than Tartarus itself and waved it, making a medium-sized cauldron materialize in the middle of the bedroom, along with a small table, cluttered with ingredients to make the potion that would put him out of his melancholy.

The cauldron was already filled with searing and boiling water. Perseus watched as Hecate added a bizarre assortment of leaves into the cauldron. The water turned from crystal clear to a pastel pink.

_The tooth of a dragon._

_One feather of a midnight raven._

_The blood from another immortal._

Hecate reached out for a small pocketknife from the far end of the table and then brought out her left hand. In one quick take, she had made a negligible cut on her left palm. Golden ichor pouring out from the goddess's palm. She extended her hand and held it above the cauldron and cautiously inclined her hand and watched as her blood mixed with the now-scarlet brew.

_One drop._

_Two drops._

_Three drops._

Three drops was enough and the potion started bubbling, turning a silver color; like the moonlight, just like Artemis. Perseus glared at the flooring at the thought of the goddess who had also betrayed him when he had saved her when he was fourteen. All of them had betrayed him; even after all he had done for the perfidious Olympians.

"Now, the concluding component, the blood from the consumer," Hecate told him.

Perseus held out his left hand to her and winced slightly as she cut his left palm promptly. Golden ichor seeped from his palm, outlining his lifelines. He too, held him hand above the silver potion and watched as three drops of his blood fell into the potion. The potion began to effervesce ruthlessly, and then it stopped, turning into a shade of midnight navy.

"It's complete." Hecate whispered, staring at the potion that had been made effectively. She waved her hand and a small drinking glass appeared in her hand. She dipped the glass into the potion circumspectly, making sure that the potion didn't make any contact with her, whatsoever.

Hecate held out the drinking glass to Perseus, who took it fervently.

"Cheers," he muttered before swallowing the whole potion in one swig.

Perseus's face became tranquil. Then, his luminous jade eyes became tedious and wide. The see-through glass fell from his grip and hit the floor, breaking into a thousand pieces.

Perseus clutched his head in pain, and fell to his knees. He felt as if Hephaestus had knocked him over the head a hundred times with his preferred mallet. His hands fell to his side and then crashed on the floor, on top of the wrecked glass.

Perseus's hands jolted in hurt and detached them from the stone floor. He stood up, cautious to not lose his equilibrium, and then looked down at his hands. Golden ichor poured out from both palms then the ichor turned into blood. The crimson blood that only mortals possessed.

Even though he was in pain from his cuts, he laughed. He laughed like a madman, with his eyes overflowing with lunacy.

Hecate stepped back from Perseus as he took her pocketknife from the table and stabbed it right where his heart is.

He fell to the floor, a vast grin still on his face. He looked down and saw the mortal blood seeping from his chest. He laughed harder and then, the light of life that his eyes once held was nowhere to be found, and his body became unresponsive. He stopped laughing.

The palace was dissonantly silent.

The only thing that could be heard was Hecate's intense inhalation and the flames from beneath the cauldron, still cooking the surplus mixture.

Hecate gulped and gazed at Perseus's lifeless body. She kneeled downward next to him and placed a diminutive kiss on his icy pallid lips.

"Farewell, my love."

She waved her hand making the ingredients and the potion fade away, along with her, leaving Perseus's deceased, wounded body sprawled on the ground.

His final laugh echoed outside of his palace, spreading all across Olympus, reaching Camp Half-Blood.

Those whom had left him heard his very last laugh.

He had detached himself from the immortality that he viewed as a curse and killed himself. He had been dejected and had become insane. Hecate had helped liberate him from the world and from the grief.

The final solution was to take his own life... to get his liberty back.

That was the _only _solution that he had.

_The _final solution.


End file.
